MICHAEL HASTINGS' INVESTIGATION NOT OVER

DETECTIVE STILL ON THE CASE, NEW DETAILS EMERGE ABOUT HASTINGS AND THE CRASH

August 28, 2013

LOS ANGELES

Despite the release last week of the coroner's report, the lead LAPD detective in the Michael Hastings' fatal car crash case said Tuesday the investigation is "far from over", but adamantly maintained the view that the investigative journalist's death  was not caused by a criminal act.

"I'm not even close to being done with the investigation," said Det. Connie White in a small interview room at LAPD's West Traffic Bureau Division. "It was an accident.  I understand it is very important we do as thorough a job as we can do before the final report."

From Detective White and other well -placed sources, some new details have emerged from the last morning of Hastings' life which ended June 18 when his speeding Mercedes Benz crashed into a palm tree on Highland Avenue near Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjaPHWNz

* Hastings was on his way to Las Vegas that morning. 

* A pedestrian was nearly hit by Hastings' Mercedes at the traffic light on Highland at WIlloughby Avenue about halfway between Melrose and Santa Monica Boulevard, where the Benz ran a red light.    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNhqKRugk8Q

* The momentary blip of light on the Mercedes before it hits the curb is from the brake lights 

 *  The first obvious "flash", internet-gossiped to be a small explosion that caused the rise the rear end of the car, was most likely caused by the front wheel being sheared off by the impact with the curb. The flash and the "rise" of the rear may have been the car rolling over that wheel. 

* There is no strong evidence to support the claim, stated in the coroner's report  (    Here ıs the full report. )  that Hastings was using, or had ever even used the hallucinogenic drug known as DMT.

 * Hastings had expressed an interest in running for political office in the state of Vermont. 

* Hastings had talked of opening a marijuana-themed resort in Vermont, even though he thought that idea would be used against him in his hypothetical run for office. 

* The beginning of the end of the car's fatal path, though not seen on tape, is the slight rise and fall at the crossroads of Highland and Melrose. At the speed the Benz is traveling through that corner. conservatively estimated  at 80 mph, the car rose up on its suspension, came down hard enough to leave marks on the street near the valet station of the Mozza restaurant triplex, and as the video picks up, swerves. 

******* 

In the interview, White presented a rational reason for what was the first major "flash" seen on the security tape that captured the crash. 

"The front driver's side front wheel was completely sheared off in the crash," said White. giving that first flash a possible origin. The wheel hits the curb at high speed, is probably torn off right there and the Mercedes Benz drives over it, causing not only the flash, but also the often-questioned raising of the car's rear end.

White confirmed that very first blip of light on the video is the brakes. The brakes most likely put the car into the swerve that sends it into the curb and ultimately crashing into the palm tree.  

 

 ***

Hastings was best known for his 2010 Rolling Stone profile of General Stanley McChrystal and his aides who bad-mouthed President Obama and V.P. Biden.  McChrystal was basically fired because of the article.   

McChrystal's army boss was Gen David Petraeus, was later brought in from  the battlefield and became CIA head in September, 2011. But, a scandal, an extra-martial affair with his  biographer, Paula Broadwell, brought him disgrace and he resigned in November, 2012. Reports have surfaced that Hastings was working on a profile of current CIA boss John Brennan.  That combination - McChrystal, Petraeus, Brennan - turbocharged conspiracy theorists.

White said she understood the interest in the death of Hastings and the numerous conspiracy theories put out on the internet. 

But, White once again ruled out any idea a  bomb was placed in the car or any other foul play. "In my investigation, it appears to be that nothing else was going on other than this was a accident. We may never know exactly why  he was speeding, but the speeding caused the crashed. This was, like I have said,  a tragic accident." 

One element of the crash "kinda astonished" White and her fellow investigators and that is the distance the ejected Mercedes Benz CL250 engine was catapulted away from the crashed car, about 170 feet.  

"He had to hit the tree at such speed and at just the right angle for the engine to go that far," said White, a 22-year LAPD veteran who has spent 18 years as a traffic investigator and has never seen anything like that.

"It was amazing," White said. "I don't know any other way to say it besides "amazing".  But, not amzing in a good way." 

 

NOTE

None of this report will sway -nor is it intended to sway -  anyone away from the belief Michael Hastings was killed by some type of black ops car hacking. A friend of mine told me "what you are writing proves nothing. It sure doesn't prove he wasn't murdered."  I agree, but I had a few more details that those following the case might find of interest. 

 

 

 

 

 

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HASTINGS FAMILY TRIED TO GET HIM TO REHAB

AUGUST 20, 2013.     

Hopıng to get hım ınto rehab, a famıly member of Mıchael Hastıngs  arrıved ın Los Angeles from New York the day before he was kılled ın a fıery car accıdent,. the L.A. Coroner's offıce saıd Tuesday.

The famıly member stated that Hastıngs has 'pased out' sometıme between 12:30 a.m. and 1 a.m.., at least three hours before before the deadly crash on Hıghland Avenue just south of Melrose on June 18, accordıng to LAPD ınvestıgators..  Thıs famıly member belıeved Hastıngs had begun usıng DMT (Dımethyltrypta). Thıs drug, known as 'busınessman's trıp' or 'fantasıa', can cause 'ımpaıred judgement that often leads to rash decısıons and accıdents' accordıng to the Palo Alto Medıcal Foundatıon.  

 The offıcıal cause of death was 'massıve blunt force trauma consıstant wıth a hıgh speed front-end ımpact...'

The report states  'famıly had just arrıved from New York the day prıor attemptıng to get the decendant to go to rehab.' .Another famıly member was due to arrıve the mornıng of the crash.. 

The quoted famıly member saıd that Hastıngs 'belıeved he was ınvıncıble'  Hastıngs was sober for the past 14 years, but begun usıng drugs agaın ın the last month of hıs lıfe. No alcohol was ın Hastıngs system the reports states,  

The report also concluded that Hastıngs  had 'small amount of amphetamıne ın the blood, consıstant wıth a possbıble ıntake of methamphetamıne many hours before death unlıkely to have an ıntoxıcatıve effect at the tıme of the accıdent '.  

Here ıs the full report.

 Hastings, the 33-year old reporter best known for a profile that brought down a U.S. Army general, was killed in an explosive early mornıng car crash near Hollywood. His death immediately sparked internet claims of a 'black-ops' conspiracy.  

Thıs coroner's report ıs lıkely to muffle the conspıracy claıms.  

++ Thıs report was wrıtten on a Turkısh keyboard at a hotel ın Istanbul. Please overlook the even more than usual typos.

+++ If anyone has trouble pullıng up the lınked report, let me know. I wıll be travelıng ın the aır most of the day tomorrow. 

HASTINGS UPDATE August 16

When news broke that Michael Hastings had died in an explosive car crash near Hollywood, the internet soon was thriving with conspiracy theories. It was - and remains - a sensational story lurking for an evil plot.    

What I find strange is so many people, even if they are convinced that this was simply a horrible accident, so quickly dismiss those who are equally convinced it was a dastardly act that killed the investigative reporter on June 18..  

To the former, consider this:  A Russian investigative reporter whose article brought down the Red Army general in charge of Russian commandos, and who was working on a story about the head of the KGB, died in a fiery car crash in Moscow. Would anyone in the United States believe the "no foul play" party line?  Please. 

Moving on, not surprisingly,  there are Michael Hastings rumors floating on the internet that have no or little basis. One of them is that Hastings body was cremated against his family's wishes.  The Los Angeles Coroner's said Friday morning that is not true. While Hastings body was cremated, it was done so,- by a mortuary- at the request of a friend of Hastings' wife who had put him in charge of the matter, according to the coroner's office..

"His wife had a friend out here who made the arrangements for the body to be cremated,° said Ed Winter, assistant chief of operations at the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office.   "The internet made it seem the city had burned the body to remove some kind of evidence. We didn't cremate his body, anyway. A mortuary did that."

Winder said that Hastings toxicology results would be made public "within days".

Another thought floating on the web is that Hastings' vehicle was traveling at only 35 miles per hour as it drove  down Highland Avenue heading toward doom.

That is not true. Not even close.  The Pizzeria Mozza security camera video that captures the crash shows several cars going by roughly a minute before Hastings' Mercedes enters the picture. The difference in speed is obvious, even startling. The Benz is going at least 80 mph, That's conservative.   

Videos of the crash on YouTube  have over 400,000 views.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjaPHWNzTHQ 


 

 

 

 

HASTINGS' TOX REPORT DUE WITHIN TWO WEEKS

August 9. 2013

The Los Angeles County Coroner’s office said Friday they should be finished with their toxicology examination of  journalist Michael Hastings within two weeks.

“We are continuing testing and want to make sure we don’t miss anything and no one can come back and say 'did you do this or that?',” said Ed Winter, assistant chief of operations at the coroner’s office. Winter said an examination like this can test for  more than 800 medicines, drugs and prescription combinations. "It should be done within two weeks."

Hastings, best known for his 2010 Rolling Stone profile of Stanley McChrystal which led to the former four-star general’s ouster, died in a fiery crash in the early morning hours of June 18 when his Mercedes Benz slammed into a palm tree on Highland  Avenue just south of Melrose Avenue.

A security camera in front of Pizzeria Mozza captured the car speeding by, jumping a median curb, then bursting into a fireball after hitting the tree. A YouTube clip of the restaurant's security footage (http://www.youtube.com/watchv=EjaPHWNzTHQ) ,posted by WeAreTheSavageNation,  has over 275,000 views.  

The lead investigator in the case, LAPD Detective Connie White, said earlier this week she was “not at all upset with the release of the video,” and added, as she has stated before,  “there has been nothing to change the LAPD's initial view that Michael Hastings’ death was due to an accident.”  White said Wednesday it might be another month for the case to be closed.

A video by Loudlabs News, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNhqKRugk8QabsNews  whichshows which catches the Mercedes running a red light at Highland and Santa Monica Boulevard, a half mile north of the crash scene, has over 170,000 views.  

 The photo below is of Hastings’ Mercedes Benz being towed away hours after the crash.

IMG_0053.JPG

A MADNESS CALLED METH

August 8, 2103.

Yesterday my friend emailed me a story about a huge methamphetamine bust in Los Angeles County invovling the powerful street gang Florencia 13, the Mexican Mafia, (EME) priosn gang and the drug caretl LA Familia Michoacan. It remind me of an old story I was part of .

 On October, 8, 2000 a joint project by the Fresno, Sacramento and Modesto Bees about the growing threat of methamphetamine was published.  My role in the special section called "A Madness Called Meth" was to go to Mexico, to Michoacan, the epicenter of meth, and reported. Freno Bee Phtographer Craig Kolhrus and I spent several days hanging out there, This is a part of the project I wrote that appeared in Chapter 5..

 

FROM "A MADNESS CALLED METH"

 

The young man is nervous during interrogation.

The detective senses it. The story just doesn't add up. Why would anyone pay someone $1,000 just to drive three men from Long Beach to Porterville in Tulare County?

"I'll tell you this right now, once you tell me the truth you're gonna feel like a man," he tells the suspect.

"All I want to do is go home to my wife and kids," he replies.

The suspect, who claims he was on his way to visit his uncle in Fresno when he was caught up in a meth bust, begins to cry.

"Why are you treating me like a criminal?"

A long minute passes. Backed into a corner, the suspect gives something up: He was paid to bring the two men up "to cook."

"To cook what?"

"I don't know. They just say to cook."

This dance is about to come to an end.

"You told me you are from Michoacan. What part of Michoacan?"

"Apatzingan."

Now the detective knows for sure. Javier Ochoa is part of the meth trade.

It's 45 minutes before midnight, and traffic is heavy on the sidewalks of Apatzingan. Bumpy, paved streets in the city's center are lined with hundreds of narrow storefront shops selling everything from new clothes to washing machines to caskets. Sidewalks are crowded with strollers.

A dressmaker watches the foot traffic. "I love living in Apatzingan," Rosalba Conchola says. "It's full of life. It's not dangerous, unlike the United States."

Music, Mexican and American, blares from passing cars, many of them new- or late-model American pickups or BMWs. There are obvious signs of money here, but there are no obvious signs as to why. It's simply understood. The chief products in this gritty farming town are mangoes, papayas, watermelons and meth. And a steady supply of meth makers.

Like some rap music in urban America, much of the popular music in Michoacan romanticizes the drug dealer. Sidewalk booth vendors in Apatzingan do a good business selling "Druga Corredos," the Mexican equivalent of gangsta rap. One song begins: "I am here across the border in America, and I have drugs for you . . ."

Apatzingan anchors the "Michoacan Trail," a pipeline that moves north through Guadalajara to Tijuana, pumping not only the product, but the people who cook it, across the California border and into the Central Valley.

"Yes, it is true," says police officer Ramon Lopez-Valencia as he slowly shakes his head. "The young people want to be crystal dealers."

Says Mike Huerta of the DEA in Arizona: "It's like they have some kind of mini academy down there in Apatzingan where they train people to cook and send them to California."

Apatzingan's police department is in the partially abandoned Palacio Municipal, a tattered two-story colonial with peeling paint, fresh graffiti and plenty of men with automatic weapons. (Across the street is the main plaza, the cathedral and the shining star of the city -- the building where on Oct. 22, 1814, Mexico's first constitution was signed.)

Fernando Fernandez-Castaneda, Apatzingan's police chief, is 23, stands about 5 foot 5 with his boots on and weighs about 130 pounds. His silver ballpoint pen sticks out of his white, blue-striped dress shirt. He wears gray slacks. Atop his burgundy vinyl-topped desk is a Samsung computer loaded with Microsoft Word. He wears no gun, but 3 feet to his left is an AK-47.

Fernandez-Castaneda smiles frequently and talks softly. He says he is determined to do something about meth in his town. "Crystal is a gigantic problem here. It has been for years," he says, as police officers armed with machine guns and pearl-handled revolvers amble outside his office. "We just used to take it all out of the country, but now the locals are consuming it, and it is very worrisome.

"We can spot the obvious drug men, and they don't care that we know what they do."

Their hair is neatly cropped, he says, and they wear gold chains and bracelets and ostrich-skin boots. They drive new pickups with fancy wheels.

During a routine raid of what Fernandez-Castaneda calls meth-rich neighborhoods, the chief runs into 23-year-old Jose Manuel. The two grew up in the same barrio. For the last six months, Manuel has a new passion -- snorting crank.

"It makes me feel excited," Manuel says, "makes me want to move."

"Is it hard for you to get it?" he is asked.

"I'll will show you how hard it is. I'll be back in 10 minutes." But Manuel, on a bike, needs a ride to score, and the chief, eager to show how common meth is, orders an officer to give Manuel a ride. After a few minutes, the chief is eager to continue the raid, so he and 22 officers in four pickups cruise along bumpy dirt roads, randomly stopping to search young men, who submit quietly.

Three crucifixes mounted with suction cups hang from the chief's windshield. A fourth lies near the gearshift -- to ensure his safety, he says. Jesus takes the place of seat belts. "It's like a university for crystal down here," says Fernandez-Castaneda, who estimates there are 10 major labs in Apatzingan and countless smaller ones. "They learn to cook and go to California."

After searching suspects in three neighborhoods, the police come up empty.

When the police arrive back at the station, Manuel shows off what is left of the quarter gram of meth he has copped for about $5. As he extends the dope, half covered in plastic wrap, the wind blows. The dope and the plastic wrap swirl out of his hand in a graceful arc, floating like a parachute to the pavement. Manuel grabs at it but misses, and the drugs fall to the concrete. He is last seen trying to sort the crystal from the dirt.

A short while later, a 17-year-old boy wearing a worn Cleveland Indians baseball cap sits on the chipped front steps of an apartment building. His old green bike rests next to him. He delivers for a nearby pharmacy but admits he wants his own type of pharmaceuticals.

"Yeah, I want my own organization one of these days," says Pablo Hernandez Rodales, taking off his cap to wipe sweat off his forehead. "I'm going to have me a new truck and five girls.

"You know, they are never going to stop the crystal now."

LAPD's MIchael Hastings Crash Investigation Update

Thirty seven days after Michael Hastings  died when his speeding Mercedes Benz burst into a fireball upon smashing into a tree on Highland Avenue in Los Angeles, the investigation into his death continues.

Yet, despite a strong conspiracy outcry, the lead LAPD detective on the case said Wednesday that "So far, all evidence leads to an accident."

"There has not been any change to the findings of our initial investigation," said Det. Connie White, referring to the LAPD's announcement  two days after the crash that there was "no foul play involved." 

When asked if alcohol had been involved, Det. White paused briefly and said "I cannot comment at this time."

Hastings, best known as the reporter whose 2010 Rolling Stone profile of outspoken, Obama-bashing, Biden-slurring General Stanley McChrystal led to the general's ouster, was speeding southbound on Highland Avenue at  Melrose Avenue at around 4:20 a.m.. Captured on a restaurant's security camera, the car swerves, jumps the median curb that divides north and south traffic, hits a 30" tall metal water pipe causing a large spark to the undercarriage of the car, then hits a palm tree and bursts into flames. The term "burst into flames" is a cliche, but Hastings' "burst" might have set a new standard, at least for a car crash. 

Regarding internet gossip about cyber-hacking into the Mercedes, such a disabling the brakes and jamming the accelerator, Det. White said "There has been no evidence at all leading in that direction." 

White did strongly knock down an internet claim  by the site "infowars" which, based on a report by Kimberly Dvorak of San Diego, stated the LAPD has ordered its officers and detectives not to speak about the crash. "I have never been ordered not to speak about a case." .

The Michael Hastings Crash

FROM THE WEBSITE "WHOWHATWHY'

The Michael Hastings Wreck–Video Evidence Only Deepens the Mystery

 

 

Michael Krikorian, an essayist and former Los Angeles Times crime reporter, happened upon the scene a few hours after journalist Michael Hastings’s speeding car slammed into a palm tree and burst into a fireball.

Krikorian has seen his share of fatal car wrecks. But this one was different. As he put it, “This demands a closer examination.”

In accident-investigation parlance, it was a roadway departure–a non-intersection crash in which a vehicle leaves the traveled way for some reason.

But how and why did Hastings’s Mercedes depart the traveled way, and why was it traveling so perilously fast?

North Highland Avenue in L.A.’s Hancock Park neighborhood is not exactly Dead Man’s Curve. A fatal car accident there is rare.

Highland is a four-lane neighborhood artery as straight as a laser, with a narrow, grassy median lined with towering Washingtonia robusta palms. In the two miles between Wilshire and Santa Monica boulevards, not a single traffic fatality was recorded on Highland from 2001 to 2009, according to National Highway Traffic Safety Administration data. http://map.itoworld.com/road-casualties-usa#fullscreen

In the final moments of Michael Hastings’s life, the car he was operating accelerated to a treacherous speed before swerving off the pavement, mounting the median and slamming into one of the palms. There were no skid marks—no apparent attempt to brake before the collision.

Hastings, 33, covered the Iraq War as a young correspondent for Newsweek. But he made front-page news (and won the prestigious George Polk journalism prize) for his 2010 Rolling Stone magazine profile of “The Runaway General,” Stanley McChrystal, commander of NATO’s security force in Afghanistan. Hastings’s story portrayed the dismissive contempt with which McChrystal and his staff viewed President Obama and Vice President Biden. The general apologized, calling the profile “a mistake reflecting poor judgment.” But he was forced to resign.

Michael Hastings was carving out a journalism niche as a muckraker, and some see nefarious forces at work in his death.

We asked Michael Krikorian for his take on the curious accident, which happened in his hometown on a block he visits several times a week. He provides the details of new video evidence that offers a few clues about the seemingly inexplicable fatality.—David J. Krajicek

————-

By Michael Krikorian

Shortly before 9 a.m. on Tuesday, June 18, I was walking with my girlfriend, Nancy Silverton, to get my car, which I had left the night before at her restaurant, Pizzeria Mozza, at Highland and Melrose avenues. Walking west on Melrose, we noticed crime scene tape as we arrived at Highland. Just to the south, a wrecked and charred car was being pulled away from a palm tree in the median.

We lifted the yellow tape and walked down the sidewalk to get access to the alley leading to the lot where my car was parked. A Los Angeles police officer stopped us. Nancy explained she owned the restaurant and I identified myself as a reporter. The officer let us walk on and gave a quick rundown: A man had driven into the tree at 4:30 that morning. He was dead.

My first thought was that another early morning L.A. drunk had killed himself. I told the officer that a security camera located outside the front door of the pizzeria probably captured the crash.

As we talked to the police, a Mozza employee named Gary, who has been staying at a small apartment above the restaurant, approached us to say that he had heard the crash.

“I heard a ‘whoosh,’ then what sounded like a bump and then an explosion,” he said. “I thought the building had been hit.”

He said he rushed down and saw the car ablaze. Gary listened as two men who claimed to have witnessed the crash told police the car had sped through a red light at Melrose.

Later, when the pizzeria manager arrived at work, we watched the security camera footage.  There’s no wonder it was a fatality. The crash ended with a hellish explosion and fire. The officer, watching the video with us, was as stunned as we were. He said, “I have never seen a car explode like that.”

Soon, a flatbed truck with the burned Mercedes CL 250 aboard drove slowly by, going north in the southbound lanes of Highland. The front of the car, particularly on the driver’s side, was badly damaged. I snapped a couple of poor photos with my iPhone.

The Man Who Brought Down General McChrystal

Nancy and I got in my car and went home. I went on to Watts to do some reporting on another story and later to Gardena. That afternoon, I got an email from a friend to whom I had mentioned the crash. It included a link to an L.A. Times story about the wreck. My friend wrote, “The driver was a well-known journalist: Michael Hastings. What a drag. Obviously a talented guy. Wonder why he was driving so fast?”

I went online and read about Michael Hastings, the guy who brought down General McChrystal. The conspiracy theories were already being spun on the web: that a bomb had been planted in the car, or that its controls had been hacked and the crash was engineered remotely by an unseen hand.

For nearly five years, McChrystal served as chief of the Joint Special Operations Command, which oversees the military’s commando units, including the Army Delta Force and the Navy Seals. This was not a paper-pushing general.  McChrystal was a soldier’s general who would go on raids with his men. A reporter brings him down—and then dies in a mysterious crash three years later. If this had happened in Russia, wouldn’t we all figure it was some dark military conspiracy?

I’m not a conspiracy guy, but my reporter’s instincts told me that this demands a closer examination. So I snooped around.

Mysteries on the Video Tape

“I’ve never seen an explosion like that,” said Terry Hopkins, 46, a former U.S. Navy military policeman who served in Afghanistan, told me. “I’ve seen military vehicles explode, but never quite like that. Look, here’s a reporter who brought down a general. He’s sending out emails saying he’s being watched. It’s four in the morning and his car explodes? Come on, you have to be naïve not to at least consider it wasn’t an accident.”

I turned to the one piece of evidence I had: the security camera footage.

The camera shows the view from near the entrance of Pizzeria Mozza.

Four seconds into the start of the tape, a minivan or SUV goes by the front of restaurant. Three seconds later, another vehicle goes by, traveling from the restaurant front door to the crash site in about seven seconds. At 35 seconds into the tape, a car is seen driving northbound and appears to slow, probably for the light at Melrose.

Then at 79 seconds, the camera catches a very brief flash of light in the reflection of the glass of the pizzeria. Traveling at least twice as fast as the other cars on the tape, Hastings’s Mercedes C250 coupe suddenly whizzes by. (This is probably the “whoosh” that Gary, the Mozza employee, heard.)

The car swerves and then explodes in a brilliant flash as it hits a palm tree in the median. Viewed at normal speed, it is a shocking scene—reminiscent of fireballs from “Shock and Awe” images from Baghdad in 2003.

I have heard and read a wide range of guessed speeds, up to as much as 130 mph. I think it’s safe to say the car was doing at least 80.

Driving 80 on Highland is flying. Over 100 is absolute recklessness.

Highland has a very slight rise and fall at its intersection with Melrose. It’s difficult to tell by the film, but based on tire marks—which were not brake skid marks, by the way—chalked by the traffic investigators, it seems that the Mercedes may have been airborne briefly as it crossed the intersection, then landed hard. Tire marks were left about 10 feet east of the restaurant’s valet stand.

(Later, I drove the intersection at just 45 mph, and my car rose up significantly.)

About 100 feet after the car zooms by on the tape, it starts to swerve. At about 195 feet from the camera, the car jumps the curb of the center median, heading toward a palm tree 56 feet away.

About halfway between the curb and the tree, the car hits a metal protrusion—perhaps 30 inches tall and 2 feet wide—that gives access to city water mains below. This is where the first small flash occurs. This pipe may have damaged the undercarriage of the car, perhaps rupturing a fuel line.

I looked at the tape frame by frame. A second flash immediately follows the first. It might be the brake lights, but it’s hard to tell. The next frame is dark. Then comes the first explosion, followed immediately by a large fireball.

I showed the video to a number of people. Everyone had the same reaction: essentially, “Wow!”

“This Was Not a Bomb”

I showed the video to Scott E. Anderson, an Academy Award-winning visual effects supervisor with Digital Sandbox who has engineered explosions for many films.

He viewed the footage more than 20 times at various speeds, including frame by frame. Anderson concluded, “This was not a bomb.”

He said a bomb would have propelled the car upward, not forward.

“It’s very hard to blow up stuff well,” Anderson said. “I think too many things would have to go right. Luck would be involved. Good and bad. Does someone doing this to Hastings want to rely on luck? Too many things have to go right. It would have to be perfect. And that’s almost impossible.”

He continued, “It comes down to physics. A bomb would have lifted the car and the engine up. Based on this video, the car doesn’t go up, and the engine goes forward, which makes sense since the car apparently did not hit the tree head on.”

He said the fireball may be enhanced by the recording device.

“That type of surveillance camera has auto exposure so it can change what it sees based by the ambient exposure day or night,” Anderson explained. “This camera is set at night and anything that happens very quickly, be it a flash light or a big ball of fire, the camera won’t react fast enough, so the first flash of light is going to appear much bigger in the viewing. So the initial explosion would always look bigger than it is.”

He suggested a simple demonstration using a cellphone video app: Strike a match in a dark room and it will flare up on camera much more than in reality.

Why Was He Driving So Fast?

The pizzeria video is compelling, but it fails to answer the key question: Why was Michael Hastings traveling so fast?

As Anderson put it, “None of this happens without the speed.”

Some theorize that the car was hacked—operated remotely (like a drone, for example) by someone who wished to harm Hastings.

That may be technologically possible, but is it plausible?

Hastings ran at least two red lights, and possibly a third. Could a hacker have planned for no cross traffic, which might have derailed the mission? If the flash before the dark frame was indeed brakes, that would indicate the brake light was functional. If the car were hurtling along out of his control, wouldn’t Hastings have been plying the brake pedal all along, not merely in the last second before the crash?

And even if the brakes and accelerator were rigged, the steering must have been functional, according to a Los Angeles Police Department officer, speaking on the condition of anonymity. “For nearly a half a mile, that car must have been going straight,” the officer said. “That can’t be done at that speed for that long, even with the best alignment.”

“Stanley Got Him”

The day after the crash, I found myself in the homicide squad room in South Los Angeles. The Hastings topic came up, and one of the detectives said, “Stanley got him. Took his time, but got him. That wasn’t an accident.” (Meaning General Stanley McChrystal.)

On cue, a sign showed up the next day on the now-singed Hasting’s Palm: “This was not an accident.”  By nightfall, someone had replaced it with another message: “Go to sleep people. This was an accident.”

Hastings’s death was national news briefly, but it was soon pushed aside by subjects deemed more pressing to the mainstream media. The George Zimmerman homicide trial was gearing up in Florida. Edward Snowden, the National Security Agency leaker, was playing Tom Hanks at a Moscow Airport. Istanbul had erupted in the biggest anti-government protests in its history, and political strife in Cairo was taking center stage.

Michael Hastings was put on the mainstream media’s back burner—or perhaps on an unlit hibachi behind the garage.

But on YouTube the conspiracy thrived. One video that has received over 8,500 views proclaimed that the plot was so over-the-top that the culprits had removed the bombed car, and in the process, placed another car in front of different trees. It also stated there was no damage to the front of the car.

I saw the car being towed away.  It was absolutely mangled on the front, particularly the driver’s side. I’ve lived in Los Angeles most of my life and have seen the aftermath of many car crashes. This was one of the worst. There was no way a driver could have survived.

LAPD Traffic Bureau: ‘No Foul Play’

Two days after the crash, the LAPD announced that there appeared to be no “foul play” in the single-car fatal crash. That ignited even more conspiracy talk:  The “feds” had gotten to the LAPD and were hushing it up.

A week after that statement, the lead investigator on the case, Detective Connie White from LAPD’s West Traffic Bureau, contradicted that. When I asked her if “foul play” had indeed been ruled out, she replied, “No. Nothing has been ruled out.”

White said the investigation was nearly complete, but she refused to give details. She said an official report, including toxicology results on Hastings’s remains, may be weeks away.

As far as a bomb or car-hacking, White said, “At this point there is nothing that leads us in that direction.”

When asked if any explosive materials had been discovered on the car or at the crash scene, White sounded like she chuckled.

She said, “Oh, boy. Hold on.”

I thought maybe I had asked a touchy question, and I expected a “no comment.” But she returned to the phone and said, “No.” The way she said it, I wondered if she had shared a laugh with other detectives about my question.

She added, “If this were anything other than an accident, other departments would have been brought in to investigate,” alluding to homicide, the bomb squad or a terrorism unit. (Though one might think “other departments” would have been needed in any case–simply to determine whether it was an accident or not.)

On TV, Hastings Provokes another General

I’ve seen a number of people use the word “fearless” to describe Hastings. The word has different meanings to different people. To some, it might be how well someone held up in the second battle of Fallujah.

I have no idea how Hasting was in the trenches. But I watched him in action on Piers Morgan’s CNN show last November against retired General David Kimmit, an admirer of General David Petraeus.  At one point, Kimmit told Hastings that his impressions about Iraq after Petraeus were wrong. Kimmit added that he knew this because he has been back to Iraq, working in the private sector.

Exasperated, Hasting threw up his hands, gave his unique smirk and proclaimed, “I’ve spent more time in Iraq than you have, man.”

Hastings went on to chide Kimmit for profiting off the war in the private sector. “I’m glad the general was able to make money off his services,” he said.

In that TV vignette, I could see why a guy like Hastings would piss off the military brass and would be so admired by fellow journalists.

I hope that someone will be able to explain why Hastings’s Mercedes was speeding like a silver bullet. Maybe the answer will show up in the toxicology results.  I know this much: American journalism has lost a pit bull of an investigative reporter.

LA TIMES OP-ED - Another Killing in Watts

A frustrated detective tweets a photo of a dead body. For good reason.

October 21, 2011

"Dead in a Zip Code that doesn't matter." — A homicide detective in "The Wire."

Knuckles' wife said it was wrong.

"The detective didn't show respect when he put that picture on Twitter," Maria Rios told me. A cellphone photograph of her just-slain husband covered with a blanket on a Watts street was posted last week on the social media site by a veteran Los Angeles Police Department homicide detective.

It wasn't just Rios who was upset. The photo drew the ire of a local blogger who called it callous, and a story on the LA Weekly blog "The Informer" kept the controversy going, launching follow-ups in newspapers and their blogs as far away as London (the Daily Mail), New York (the Daily News) and Washington (the Post).

Oscar "Knuckles" Arevalo, 32, was killed Oct. 11 as he was standing next to a woman known as the "Tamale Lady" on the southwest corner of 106th Street and Wilmington Avenue in the unruly heart of Watts.

When Sal LaBarbera, supervisor of the criminal gang homicide unit in the LAPD's South Bureau, which covers Watts, arrived on the scene, he took a picture of Arevalo's body covered with a white and red blanket and later posted it on his Twitter account (@LA Murder Cop) with the tag "Guess where I'm at??? It never ends." And the hoopla began.

LaBarbera isn't apologizing. On Sunday, one of his Twitter followers asked: "Did you ever think 1 pic would get such attention?" He replied: "I would have done [it] sooner. Stop the violence." He told me he regretted that posting the photo had become the issue: "The real issue is what is happening in Watts, in our city."

And that's the point. Frustration played a major role in LaBarbera's decision. With all due respect to Rios — who has five children with Arevalo and is brokenhearted — sometimes we need to see what's hard to look at.

Within several blocks of where Knuckles (he got his nickname from his boyhood love of fist-fighting, his wife said with a laugh) died, there have been 19 other homicides this year. How much TV airtime and how many newspaper column inches have been written about those killings? Other than a full-page LA Weekly piece in June about a double on Grape Street, the only coverage has been the posts on The Times' homicide blog.

Can you imagine the response to nearly 20 homicides this year in Hancock Park or Beverly Hills? Delta Force maybe?

It's always been this way. I first met LaBarbera in the mid-1990s, when I covered a triple homicide off Hoover Street in South-Central. I wrote about 25 inches; it was published as a brief, 2 inches tops. I called LaBarbera and told him. I don't remember his exact words, but he was disappointed then, so how would he feel now, after another decade and a half of largely unheralded murders.

Some Angelenos seem to be under the twisted impression that a killing in Watts does not matter as much as one in a more tranquil area. South L.A. communities are used to violence, right? It's not news. But that familiarity with tragedy only makes it all the more tragic.

"People, white people, think that this is normal, that murders are supposed to happen here in Watts," said Elvonzo "Red Mann" Cromwell at Monday's Watts Gang Task Force meeting. Cromwell, who knew Arevalo, grew up in Jordan Downs. "But it's not supposed to happen here the same as it's not supposed to happen anywhere."

But, it does happen here with alarming frequency, which is the prime reason LaBarbera posted the photo. Watts, just one 2.1-square-mile community in the LAPD's Southeast Division, accounted for four times the homicides in the entire 17.2-square-mile Hollywood Division and nine times the number in the even larger West Los Angeles Division as of Oct. 1. And that was before Arevalo was killed.

The families of the multiple homicide victims in Arevalo's neighborhood aren't grieving any less than families in Hollywood and West L.A. Heartbroken is heartbroken on Grape Street in Watts, same as it is on Mapleton Drive in Holmby Hills.

As a fictional LAPD homicide detective, Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch, says, "Everybody counts or nobody counts."

Was it in good taste to post the photo of Knuckles? Certainly not to Maria Rios. But it needed to be done, and it would be a crying shame not to know why it was done. The fuss should not be about LaBarbera's posting the picture; it should be about what's been lost in the ruckus — the killing of Knuckles.

Michael Krikorian, a former Times reporter, does research for the Watts Labor Community Action Committee.

 

NY Times Magazine "Lives" The Namesake

 Back in 1985, while working at Hughes Aircraft in Long Beach, Calif., I met a fine young woman named Addie. She worked in a different department, but whenever I saw her, I’d flirt with her. Eventually she became my girlfriend. I was a fixture at her mother’s house in the Fruit Town ’hood where Addie lived with her two sons. It was known as Fruit Town because of the names of the streets — Cherry, Peach, Pear — and it was one of the roughest neighborhoods in Compton, home of the Fruit Town Piru gang, one of the original gangs in the confederation known as the Bloods.

It was during this time that the crack epidemic was at its inglorious height. There were dealers up and down Cherry Street, a narrow lane of tattered two-bedroom homes. My girlfriend became hooked on crack. Some nights she wouldn’t come home. But I stayed with her and tried in vain to get her to stop. When you love someone who is on crack, you can’t help trying to get them to quit.

Like the fool I was, I continued to have unprotected sex with her. She became pregnant. I wondered if I was the father. Addie swore tearfully I was. When the baby was born, he didn’t really look like me, but he did have a bit of a hooked nose like mine. I put my trust in that nose.

Addie named the boy Michael Krikorian Jr. For the first two years of his life, I bought almost every sip of Similac, slurp of food and batch of diapers. Finally one day, Addie’s sister Kathy called me an idiot and told me he wasn’t my kid. Something I knew deep down. Eventually Addie admitted it to me. Still, the kid didn’t have a real father, so I continued to help out. (The biological father was a dealer up the street. He died eight years ago from a heart attack.)

Even after Addie and I split, I would still drop in on Li’l Mike. When he saw me walk in the door, he’d get this really big smile on his face, rush over and punch me in the leg. But eventually the visits faded, and the last time I saw Mike he was maybe 6 or 7 years old. Then last summer, Addie called. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. Michael, now 19, had been arrested and charged with a gang-related murder.

One morning a few weeks later, I went over to the notorious Men’s Central Jail, where half a dozen inmates have been killed in the last few years. I got in the dreaded line of visitors who wait outside to see loved ones. You really do have to love the person who’s incarcerated to get in that damn line. It felt as long as a football field.

Michael Jr., I learned from Addie, had joined the Neighborhood Compton Crips. As I waited in line, I wondered where Li’l Mike would be today if I really were his father and had raised him. And I wondered where I would be if it hadn’t been for my own father. Maybe I’d be there, too. I got into trouble twice as an adult, and both times my dad came to my rescue.

After about 90 minutes outside, I was let into the jail’s waiting room — a depressing place with flies and swarms of little kids running around. Finally, after another hour and a half, a deputy called out Michael’s name.

I went to Row F, Seat 14, and there he was, waiting on the other side of a pitted glass partition. He looked good — lean and muscular, like a cornerback or a wide receiver. Li’l Mike is now 6-foot-2, 205 pounds.

He looked at me as if to say: “Why you sitting here? You must have the wrong seat.” I just sat there looking at him. Slowly, the past came back: a lopsided grin, then a smile, then the big smile I remember. That recognition was sweet. It took a minute for the phones to work, so we just kept staring at each other. Then the phones came on.

“Do you know my name?” I asked him.

He just started laughing. “Yeah,” he said. “You got a cool name.”

We talked about his life — his brothers, his schooling, his plans if the case goes his way. He asked me to send him a certain book, but it had to be a paperback. I said I would. I told him I was sorry I didn’t have any cash that day to leave for him. “That’s all right,” he said with a warm, sincere smile. “The visit is greatly appreciated.” I said something stupid like, “Hang in there,” and then put my left fist up to the glass. His fist met mine.

As I walked outside into the fresh air, I thought about him sleeping in that jail. I prayed he wouldn’t be found guilty, though the trial wouldn’t be for months. I figured I’d go back and visit him again. Damn that damn line.